


Salvation

by carameldumpling



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carameldumpling/pseuds/carameldumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Baby,” he whispers into her right ear. “Baby, you’re safe.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ - 13 April 2010

The call comes at four in the morning, just after Nate’s finished his job. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks urgently, walking as fast as he can to the car, briefcase in hand. 

“Nothing,” Blair’s voice murmurs over the phone. “She’s still asleep, Nate. But James has school tomorrow, and I have to be home.”

Nate flinches inwardly. Sometimes he forgets that Blair has a five-year-old child waiting at home, a living, breathing thing that looks at her for guidance and love and complete adoration. After all these years, children have ceased being part of the equation of Nate’s life. Maybe, if he thinks hard enough, a long time ago he wanted a blonde boy or a green-eyed girl to come home to. 

But things change. Screw up well-made plans. 

“I’m sorry, Blair,” he says sincerely as he starts the car. “I forgot tomorrow’s Monday.”

Blair says nothing in response, and he can imagine the twitch at the corner of her mouth that would become a frown. 

“Look, you should go. James has school tomorrow. And Chuck’s probably staying up, waiting for you. Matt will be around if anything happens.”

Blair sighs. “Natie,” she says sadly, and Nate remembers sunlight filtering through trees, happy laughter and wide smiles. It’s all a memory that makes his heart ache, and the hurt doesn’t lessen over time. “Natie, stop. This is crazy.”

Nate clenches his jaw. “We’ve been through this before,” he grits.

“I know,” Blair shoots back, all sarcastic wit. “I record our conversations in my diary with a pink pen. Nate, whatever you do…” she seems hesitant to end her sentence. “Whatever you do, it won’t change anything.”

“It will,” Nate says as the car takes a left turn into Brooklyn. “I’ll sleep better. There would be justice.”

“This isn’t justice. It’s revenge. Irrational revenge.”

Nate scrubs his face. “I’m reaching in ten, Blair. You can leave.”

The silence is angry; he’s known Blair long enough to know that. She knows, too, that his words are a dismissal, but God forbid Blair Waldorf to not have the final say.

“She’s not going to revert back to what she was. You’re not going to wake up one day and find her all smiles and giggles, Nate.”

Nate snaps his phone shut. He’s heard enough. 

: : :

The Archibald house is silent and dark when he reaches home. There’s no one to greet him, so he figures that Blair left the moment their phone call ended. Sighing, he’s about to go down to the basement when he sees a shadow.

Turning around, he whips out the gun tucked under his jacket, safety already off. In his head, he thinks of various exit routes, the extensive security system and how the invader could have entered the house without triggering it, and the love of his life two floors above. The last one makes him see red.

“Mr. Archibald,” Matt Ridge says calmly, decked in his suit. Nate heaves a sigh, dropping his hand back to his side. He’d been so out of it he didn’t even realize his wife’s bodyguard. 

“You changed your cologne?” He notices, opening the door to the basement.

Matt blushes, and Nate is surprised. “Yeah, Abby said she smelt it at Barney’s, and she liked it.”

Nate smirks. “You’re hitting on my housekeeping team now?”

“Hey,” Matt grins, following him into the basement. “Not my fault you hire hot chicks to wash your linen.”

: : : 

It’s an hour later, when Nate’s packed up his equipment and he and Matt have gone through the usual debriefing that he makes his way up to the bedroom.

“You got it, Matt?” he asks one last time.

Matt nods, replacing little items he’d already used up today. “Yeah, I got it.”

: : : 

She’s beautiful. She’s always beautiful, was never ugly in his eyes. Even pale and looking like death on a hospital bed, tubes entangles all over, she was beautiful. 

He never wants to see her like that ever again.

He undresses as quickly as his can, the sudden wash of tiredness overwhelming him. He crawls in behind her under the covers, gently placing one arm around her, hand splayed across her stomach protectively. She always sleeps this way now, turned to her left. Before, she’d sprawl all over the mattress, but now she’s so still only the movement of her shoulders tell him she’s still alive. Breathing. 

Nate Archibald closes his eyes and hopes to get a decent amount of sleep. 

: : : 

Nate feels something moving, twitching. Groggy, he opens his eyes, and her face, her beautiful face, is in a mask of pain.

He hates this, the nightmares. Because when she’s awake, he can hug her and whisper sweet nothings and reassurances to her, but when she’s asleep, stuck in her own mind, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to pass. Or not.

He runs his fingers through her long hair, making hushing noises. It’s worked before, but this particular nightmare seems bad. Her eyes are flicking everywhere underneath her eyelids, and she tenses, almost spasming. There’s little gasps of panic now, and yeah, this one is bad.

“Baby,” he whispers into her right ear. “Baby, you’re safe.”

She shakes her head, now practically hyperventilating, and Nate decides that he’s going to have to wake her up.

He doesn’t even need to do that, because she jolts up in bed, hand cupping her left ear, gasping wildly. “No,” she pleads to an invisible attacker, sounding so broken and so lost Nate’s heart breaks all over again.

“Hey,” he says softly, not wanting to scare her. He sits up next to her, pulling her close. “You’re safe.”

She still looks lost – what was she dreaming this time, it’s never been so bad in a while – and when she turns, he sees frightened blue eyes.

It takes a while, but realization soon appears on her face. “Natie?” she asks.

“Serena,” he smiles, kissing her cheek. “You’re safe.”

She stares at him, and the hand cupping her left ear falls. “Oh god,” she sobs, tugging him closer and burying her face into his chest. “Nate,”

He wraps his arms around her shaking form, making soothing noises, repeating the same words again and again.  _You’re safe, Serena. You’re safe now._

: : :

She falls asleep again, clearly exhausted. They’ve switched places, so that Serena can cuddle up to him, still on her left side. Nate rubs her hipbone soothingly, watching her troubled, anguished face slowly clear into the calm, innocent look that’s he never sees anymore except when she’s deep in slumber.

She hates sleeping on her right side. She can’t hear anything, she told him once, tears falling down her red cheeks, hiccupping. She can’t hear anything when she sleeps that way, and she feels so exposed.

Nate changed the bed’s position after that.

Neither party wants to be reminded that Serena is deaf in her left ear. Sometimes he strokes her left ear absently, and she gives a full body shiver, fear in her eyes. It takes some time to calm her down afterwards, to convince her that he’s her Natie, not some faceless predator. She’s never mentioned what those men used to rip apart her eardrum, and on some days Nate’s thankful she didn’t tell. 

He still remembers what her left ear was like when they first found her. The pictures of the doctor’s report is in the basement, because he never wants her to see them. She doesn’t need to know that her ear was torn, bloody and shriveled. The glories of plastic surgery meant that the ear now looked exactly like what it was before, and the only giveaway is the scar at the back of her ear. 

But plastic surgery only solves the problems on the outside. The emotional scars still exist. 

: : :

There are benefits of being an Archibald. You have a pretty face so people think you’re stupid. It’s amazing how people still think that Nate is the himbo that he was before- Before. So he plays up the role of the dumb heir, drinking a little too much and acting as if he doesn’t know about the latest news unless it’s related to him. Serena’s been at his side for years now, since they got married, and when they go to functions the Upper East Side is in awe of them, Nate and Serena Archibald, and at the same time pitiful, because they are Nate and Serena Archibald.

Everyone knows about Serena. It’s the reason why women talk to her kinder, why men stay a respectable distance away from her. Nate and Eric are the only men that can dance with her, and instead of an uproar and people blogging about how Serena once slept with so many of these people they meet now, the Upper East Side amazes Nate by understanding.

Gossip Girl, once the bane of Nate’s existence, no longer blogs. She never has since they were eighteen, and Nate sometimes wonders if she would be cruel enough to still attack his wife if she were still blogging now.

He’d probably kill her if she did.

Jonathan Cooper walks into the huge office, file in hand. This is the benefit he loves best – being the family friend of the head of the FBI. There’s no other way Nate can embark on this journey of his on his own without getting caught. It helps that Cooper feels the exact same way as he does. 

“Leslie Sanger, CEO of Sanger Pharmaceuticals,” Cooper slides the file over, and Nate doesn’t hesitate to take it. “He supposedly worked with the van der Woodsens four years back, before backing out of a major deal between the two companies. The grapevine says it’s because of one hell of a fight.”

Nate stares at the file picture of the dark haired, grinning man, probably taken at a charity event of some sort. “What kind of fight would that be?”

Cooper leans against the desk, arms folded. “He supposedly showed huge interest towards Serena, but she didn’t feel the same way.” There’s a pause. “But he pursued her, almost like a stalker. William found out and called the deal off.”

William van der Woodsen. The father Serena always hoped would just look at her and love her unconditionally. “Must have hit a nerve.”

“More than just a nerve,” Cooper declares. “Nate, the deal was about the cancer cure.”

Nate looks up, eyes wide as the pieces to the puzzle are put in place. “Serena’s ransom was the cancer cure,” he whispers, anger rushing through his veins. It takes a lot of strength to not rip the file in his hands. Maybe he could blast the bastard’s office just for the satisfaction. 

He’s startled from his violent thoughts by Cooper putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t start thinking of blasting his office, Archibald. You got lots of planning to deal with to make sure this goes through without a hitch.”

Is Cooper kidding him? He’s been planning this for the past three years, ever since that tape came in with Serena begging masked men to  _stop, please, don’t_  and the then came the scream that Nate can never erase from his memory, however hard he tries. 

 _“Stay still,”_  he remembers one of them grunting at his wife while she had hyperventilated. _“It’ll hurt less if you do.”_

He lied. Serena still hurts even on her good days. 

Nate stands up and Cooper straightens. The meeting is over. “Don’t worry,” Nate says as he slides the file into his briefcase. “I got it covered.”

: : :

Today is Serena’s good day. She’s fixing herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when Nate comes home, humming  _Imagine_. Nate makes enough noise to annoy an eighty-year-old grandma, because quiet makes Serena terrified. Coming up to her when she doesn’t acknowledge your presence results in yells and sobs that Nate tries so hard to avoid. 

Serena turns, blue eyes as bright as they can be nowadays. The sparkle that they held back when they were teenagers is long gone. “Natie,” she smiles, putting down the butter knife. “You’re home early.”

Nate walks up to her, cupping her face and kissing her gently. “Mm, made sure I finished my work early, so that I could see you.”

Serena blushes and buries her head in his chest. Protectiveness floods him as he engulfs her in a hug. “I missed you,” she whispers. Nate closes his eyes, his heart aching. No matter what he keeps on telling her, Serena continues to think that he’ll leave one day, because she’s imperfect and damaged. The only thing he can continue to do is to reassure her and show as much love as he can. 

“I missed you too,” he whispers back as he rubs soothing circles on her back. “Wanna go upstairs and watch something?”

Serena bites her lip, unsure. “We could just sit around if you want,” she says softly. “I’m sure you’re tired. We don’t have to watch anything.”

Nate stops the sigh that was about to escape. Nowadays, sighing makes Serena think that Nate’s angry with her. The last time he sighed because he was tired, and Serena had fled into the darkest corner of the room, curled in a ball, her left hand cupping her ear and the right stretched outwards, as if pleading him to not hurt her. 

Nate had calmed her down, put her to bed, took out a bottle of Jack and downed the whole thing in an hour.

“Baby, I want to,” he smiles as he slowly pushes out of her grasp and clutches her hand. Contact, that’s what doctor said she needs. Constant loving contact. “Come on, let’s go.”

: : :

They’re in bed, watching  _The Virgin Suicides_  silently, the only sound aside from the movie is Serena chewing on her sandwich. Nate would have picked something a little more cheerful, heck, even  _Finding Nemo_  was a better option at this point, but Serena had chosen the show, and Nate couldn’t say no.

She shifts a little closer at the sight of Josh Hartnett and Kirsten Dunst making out in the field so passionately, as if trying to prevent Nate from running away. Her insecurities run so deep he wonders if they’ll ever manage to vanquish the nightmares and the bad thoughts. 

He drapes an arm around her shoulder, rearranging the sheets and the comforter so that they form a cocoon around them both. “’S that good?” he asks, pointing at the half-eaten sandwich.

Serena shrugs. “You want some?”

Nate’s starving, so yes, he’d be more than happy to swallow her sandwich in two bites. He doesn’t do that, though. He just bites of a little, making an appreciative noise as he swallows. “That’s really good.”

Serena blushes, looking away. “It’s just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she says with a hint of sadness. 

“It’s your peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Nate whispers in her right ear, kissing it, worshipping it. “And I love it because you made it.”

Serena closes her eyes, her face stricken. The movie is long forgotten. “Nate,”

“I love you,” he says urgently. “I love you and everything that you do.”

She scoffs at that, bitter. “You love the nightmares and the screams and the crying?”

“It’s not your fault you have those, Serena,” he says softly. “Not your fault. Never your fault.”

Serena shakes her head, eyes full of unshed tears. “You don’t understand, Natie,” she says brokenly, her breath hitching. She burrows deeper into the cocoon, as if trying to protect herself. “It’s my fault.”

Nate thinks of everything he learnt today, and for the first time in three years, that sentence makes sense. And at the same time, it’s completely wrong. 

Kirsten Dunst kisses Josh Hartnett on screen, smiling, and Nate thinks,  _we were that once_.


End file.
